Slave to Beauty
by sweet submissive
Summary: Grimmjow shakes his head, eyes roving his Master's night attire; he licks his lips, backing away slowly. Ichigo's eyes are hooded as he lifts a knee onto the bed between Grimmjow's spread legs, a hand on Grimmjow's chest, and whispers lowly, "Kiss me." Slave!Grimmjow Master!Ichigo. GrimmIchi.
1. i am yours

Inspired by 12 Years a Slave and Django.

Not actually completely sure where I'm going with this, but inspiration struck so I had to write it.

* * *

His chains jingle loudly as he shifts uncomfortably, blowing a stubborn strand of cerulean hair out of his eyes subtly. It is late morning, the sun is sweltering. The carriage carrying him and the 10 other slaves had arrived at the Kuchiki estate barely an hour ago; their chains had not yet even been taken off. They stand in an orderly row, facing the estate and backs to the field, sweating and listening to the man in front of them, and he attempts to take in the beautiful grounds surrounding him.

Kuchiki Byakuya is the master of the estate (now also the master of them); a beautiful mansion surrounded with gardens and abundant fields, all inherited from his late father. He sits up on the balcony of the mansion at a small table across from his wife Lady Hisana, who fans herself lightly against the hot summer sun. There is another at the table, whom Grimmjow and the other slaves had been informed is the other Lady of the house; Hisana's younger sister, Lady Rukia.

The tall red-headed man pacing back and forth along the line of slaves is the petite Lady Rukia's fiancee, Master Abarai Renji. The soon-to-be wed couple were both living in the Kuchiki estate alongside the Master and Lady as well as one other; Abarai was adept at working in fields and with slaves thanks to his upbringing and family, and so once his engagement to Lady Rukia was confirmed, he was put in charge of everything that Master Byakuya was clearly not willing to do. Namely, _work outside._

Master Abarai drills them on their duties forcefully as he paces to and fro, and the slaves eye him warily, chains jingling loudly as Grimmjow adjusts his weight onto his other bare foot. They eye Renji warily not because his features incite fear; no, not at all. The whip he is holding, fingering absentmindedly as he speaks, makes all slaves restless and wary.

Grimmjow feels a bead of sweat run from his temple to his jaw, the thin collared shirt he is wearing sticking to his back. His hair feels grimy, his shirt is mud-stained and his bare feet are covered in dirt; mud and sweat coating his skin. He hasn't bathed in days, not since he left the prison to be taken here.

The sun is sweltering, beating down on the line of slaves mercilessly. None will complain though, they will not say a word; any fight they once had in them beaten down over the time they had spent in slavery. The whip in their new Master's hands was enough to keep them silent.

"You will address us as 'Master', and Lady Hisana and Lady Rukia as 'Ma'am'. 'S that clear?" Renji stills in front of a tall slave, planting his boot-clad feet into the ground and sliding his hand along his whip, his gaze travelling down the row of slaves.

A collective voice of _yes, master_ is heard from all 11 slaves, with Grimmjow's deep voice blending amongst the rest. He adjusts his weight again, sharp eyes cutting to the side as he mumbles his obedience to one of his new Masters. They haven't yet seen their final Master; the young adopted brother of the Kuchiki family. _Probably too perfect to grace us lowly ones with his presence,_ Grimmjow thought sarcastically. He would never say it out loud; his bite had been beaten out of him since his teenage years, having been a slave all his life, and as he approached 25 he had matured to the point where he could remain cold and detached to what went on around him. Emotion would earn him pain. He would no longer lash out like he once did, no longer talked back; the scars on his back were enough to convince him to hold his tongue.

"Good. Now go wash or somethin', you all smell like shit. The trough is there. Sixty-nine, show 'em. Then it's straight to work."

"Yes, master," a dark-haired slave with tattoos adorning his face comes forward from where he was attending to the gardens, and Renji turns as he passes, returning towards the estate, probably for shade and a rest before he is to attend to the slaves once again.

The dark-haired slave, nicknamed Sixty-nine, gives them a curt nod of _follow me_ and leads them towards the water troughs and pump, keys to their chains in hand. They are lining up orderly without being told, eager to finally have their hands and feet free and to wash themselves. Grimmjow makes it to the front, placing his hands in Sixty-nine's and hears the familiar click of the lock, chains falling away as Sixty-nine kneels to do the same to his feet. Grimmjow rubs his wrists, scars from cnstant chains adorning them permanently and as he steps out of the ones at his feet he heads towards the troughs as he hears Sixty-nine call for _next!_

He feels light, painfully so, and immediately dips his hands inside the water trough filled with water, splashing it on his face and through his hair gratefully. He feels like he is in heaven, there is even _soap_, for gods sake. He mirrors what his fellow slaves are doing, stripping himself of his shirt as he is passed one of those heavenly bars of soap, scrubbing himself down thoroughly then rinsing. He returns to just splashing his face when he is satisfied with his cleanliness, feeling the rivulets run down his face and arms, the lightness of his limbs from lack of chains. He had heard in rumor that Master Kuchiki treated his slaves fairly, and despite not starting physical work yet, Grimmjow was inclined to agree. Soap and freedom from chains was enough for him at this point.

The clamor of his fellow slaves alerts him, and he wipes his wet face with his equally wet forearm, then again with his hand, as he glances towards the mansion. He hears the older slaves' greetings, curtsies and bowing, and the new slaves like Grimmjow are all turning towards the noise and adjusting their posture by reflex. Grimmjow remains bent over the trough, running his hands through his drenched hair as it falls stubbornly in his eyes, and makes out the new figure accompanying Master Abarai.

He is beautiful.

That is the only word Grimmjow can think to describe the youth approaching. He is young; late teens perhaps, hair a beautiful tangerine and skin lightly tanned. His pants are tucked into boots, embroided shirt fitted in all the right places on his frame. He is lithe, in an almost thin, effeminate way.

He is beautiful.

Master Ichigo was adopted into the Kuchiki house from a young age, and so was treated as nobility all his life alongside his adopted sisters. He is smiling lightly at his future-brother-in-law's words, and Renji laughs along with him. They both divert their attention to the group in front of them, Ichigo's expression reverting to normal, and Grimmjow straightens, wiping his face again.

Renji addresses them again, _you will refer to him as Master,_ and drills them on their duties which they are to begin immediately. Ichigo nudges his friend, whispering something in his ear, his body language showing his intent to leave. Grimmjow watches the sensual movement of his lips against the other's ear, despite the act itself being anything but. Renji nods, returning to what he was saying and Ichigo's gaze runs down the line once more.

They each have their eyes trained on Renji, listening in fear of the whip he fingers at his side, except for one. Ichigo's gaze pauses on Grimmjow's and time seems to stop. Grimmjow's sky blue irises locked with Ichigo's chocolate hue, and Grimmjow holds his gaze, staring back into _beauty._

And then it is over. Time resumes it's ticking, and Grimmjow lets out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as Ichigo turns swiftly, heading back to the estate with not a single glance back.

Grimmjow's sharp gaze remains on his retreating back, even as Renji quips for them to set to work; even as the other slaves reach for the tools set up next to them to take.

The tall slave next to him gives him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder, and only then does Grimmjow's gaze fall to the ground, a single nod of acknowledgement as he finally reaches for the plow leaning against the trough. The slave - Starrk - heads off after the others towards the field near the estate, and Grimmjow follows, eyes returning to the balcony of the house where a tuft of sunset-colored hair can just be seen.

_He is beautiful._


	2. heat me up

For those who are interested, the setting is the 19th century, and the characters are all speaking with a Louisiana/Mississippi accent. Think 12 Years a Slave. (I'm not American though, so I might not even be right. Just know it's purely for aesthetic purposes, cuz I like the way it sounds)

* * *

Ichigo nods absently, for the most part only half-listening to what Rukia is saying as he fans himself restlessly. They sit outside today, at the back of the house, in the shade at a small table, looking out onto the fields where the slaves are working. Renji rides his horse Zabimaru amongst them as he watches, whip hitting the dirt in warning every time a slave seems to slack off in the slightest.

Rukia twitters on about her plans for her and Renji's wedding; _this color _and _that breed of flower _and _what do you think of this? _and Ichigo smiles and nods along again, and it seems to satisfy his adopted sister as she continues. Byakuya and Hisana have gone back inside to escape the heat; Byakuya knows Renji can handle the slaves on his own, and it is only Ichigo and Rukia that remain outside, drinking tea idly in the shade. The crack of the whip is heard again, this time next to a quiet blonde slave, hair falling over half of his face, as Renji yells at him to _git back to work!_

The sun is high in the sky and the slaves are sweating, probably not used to the dry heat of their new home; Ichigo could see them panting, sweat soaking through their clothes, drenching their rags in water to drape over their own heads as they work. He eyes each slave, taking in their features; the ones working in the fields are all male, as the few female slaves were taken inside on the first day to work in the kitchens. Ichigo comes to the blue-haired slave, the one with _those eyes._ The blue-haired slave places his plow on the ground, swiping an arm over his face to wipe away the sweat coating his skin, before grasping his sleeves and pulling his shirt over his head.

Ichigo's eyelids flutter as he inhales softly, biting his lip, watching the slave's muscles glisten and stretch; the bulge of his biceps, the lines of his rib cage leading down to hard abdominals, the way sweat runs down his neck to his collarbone only to continue down pectorals that shine with perspiration. Ichigo's gaze lowers to his waist, the lines of his hipbones creating that V line and Ichigo's head fills with heat as he takes in Grimmjow's frame, how large he is; how big he must be in _other _places-

Ichigo straightens his spine, legs spreading slightly as he feels his cock twitch, and that is when the blue-haired slave catches him _looking,_ wiping his face with his arm. Ichigo's body feels hot, breath stunted and the sound of Rukia's voice fades as the slave meets his eyes, his gaze dark, sharp features expressionless. Ichigo licks his lips, watching the slave's eyes drop to watch the movement. There is buzzing in his ears and Ichigo feels heat between his legs, plump lips slightly open as he shudders and his cock throbs against his leg _Those eyes,_ ice blue and fierce with fire, and he almost thinks that the slave must be able to see his arousal through his clothes-

And then a whip cracks at the ground next to Grimmjow, who doesn't even flinch, and Ichigo jumps in his seat. "Ichigo? Are you listening to me?" Rukia prods him, and Ichigo looks at her, slightly startled.

Renji is dismounting his horse, getting up in Grimmjow's face, asking him what he was looking at, what's got him so distracted that he can't even do his _fucking work._

Grimmjow turns to him, features blank and Renji scowls, looking the slave up and down, pulling him roughly to look at the scars, the large branding of a 6 on his back.

"You lookin' at somethin', Sexta? Somethin' up there more interestin' than yer work?" Renji asks, a glance towards his fiancee and brother-in-law.

Grimmjow frowns, contempt absent from his face, "My name is Grimm-"

"What did you say, _Sexta?_" Renji barks, eyes dark and challenging, hand tight on the handle of his whip, face too close.

Grimmjow's jaw tightens, eyes flickering momentarily towards the whip, gaze steady. Emotion earns pain. The air is heavy, the silence stifling. "Nothing," he says lowly, his tone thick, "Master,"

Renji snorts, taking a step back, searching the slave's face for any sign of disobedience, a reason to use his whip. "Then get back to work, _Sexta_," he makes no move to turn away, waiting for Grimmjow to start working or talk back, whichever came first, and Grimmjow pauses, eyes fierce as he stares back.

Then he finally bends over, picking up the plow, and on the way back up he casts a fleeting look at Ichigo, eyes heated with something that isn't anger, before the moment is broken and he returns to work, Renji watching him closely.

"Sorry, Rukia, what were you saying," Ichigo says softly, head fuzzy and body hot. Rukia eyes him warily but repeats herself, and Ichigo listens.

The day continues, Grimmjow works on, but Renji keeps a close eye on him, fiddling with his whip, ready to use it if need be. There was something about this new slave, something in his eyes, that made him cautious.

And unbeknownst to Renji, another pair of eyes lingers on the new slave discreetly, but this gaze holds an intent that is completely different.


End file.
